


Submerged Far, Far Above

by disstrodo



Category: Hollow Knight (Video Games)
Genre: Adventure, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Gen, I'm Bad At Tagging, More characters to be added, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slavery, The Knight is Called Ghost (Hollow Knight), also relationships later, au - pre infection, beyond the wastes, but infection starts soon, but then it's just funny world building, ghost being a chaotic babey, if i figure out how to write it, istg please put up with my bad pacing for like 2 chapters i'm sorry, redeemable villains, we're spending a little bit in hallownest, zipping between fluff and angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-02
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-14 04:15:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29164794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/disstrodo/pseuds/disstrodo
Summary: Ghost strives to see the world, whether they were born a slave or not.Determined to seek what it really means to be free, they escape the confines of their labor-filled life to find what truly makes them happy.
Comments: 25
Kudos: 59





	1. The Little Vessel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ngl i've never written a personal story before,, all i can write are essays  
> ik this is a slave story and that's already been done, but honestly i just read it and the only overlapping part is slavery and something else so :D  
> i had a LOT of fun writing this and i look forward to hopefully posting at least one chapter every week? provided i'm not overwhelmed with schoolwork ofc but this story is my life, istg it just hhhhh ;))

Ghost was back. Again.

The glaring lights that adorned the stifling, sweaty halls of the auction house were no longer harsh to their troubled eyes, the taunting blue banners advertising other lands yet to be explored less tantalizing. The shouts announcing the bids of haughty, aspiring bugs - all high class, of course - were upsetting no more. The casual discussion of what disturbing experiments scientists would put their vessels through next and the bets on how long a vessel would survive in the crystal mines to the east were not unexpected anymore.

With that being said, why did Ghost still dread returning? Why did it feel like the final time? Ghost _knew_ that they had received a great many second chances, so whatever made this auction seem so dire was lost on Ghost.

 _It’ll be fine_ , Ghost thought, _I’ll just put on my best appearances!_

Ironically, Ghost had always anticipated the arrival of a new auction. After all, new auctions meant new bugs to meet! Elderbug, Sly and his apprentices, the Snail Shaman, Myla, Quirrel, Monomon and Hornet were all friends Ghost had made during their services in Hallownest. Before they were inevitably fired from each and every one of their duties, of course. Ghost was becoming notorious throughout Hallownest for their knack for _royally_ screwing up, no matter the job, however easy the task. It wasn’t _their_ fault that the void bowls in the plague doctors’ offices were so high up! If they were closer to the ground, Ghost could have stolen it easier to sneak to Quirrel and Monomon instead of spilling the permanently-staining liquid all over the pale floors. And it wasn’t Ghost’s fault that they had been caught goofing off in the Queen’s Gardens, either! How could Ghost have known that those flowers they made into a flower crown for their sibling were reserved specifically for the Queen?

Ghost was positively fuming when they arrived at the auction room with two guards at their side. They didn’t need to be escorted; they knew the auction house like the back of their hand. Ghost tried to express to them that they wouldn’t get lost, yet the guards remained, much to Ghost’s dismay. Thankfully the pesky soldiers left once Ghost was “secure,” as the bugs phrased it. They couldn’t fathom why they were being treated as a ticking time bomb. Was it something they did?

As Ghost walked into the auction room, treading along the path so distinctly ingrained into their muscle memory, the lights seemed to shine extra harshly. A new breakthrough in void technology, perhaps? Ghost couldn’t fathom why Hallownest invested its time and energy experimenting with void to make _lights._

Strangely, the whole room seemed to glow painfully and was plagued with a stifling silence.

Something was _wrong._

As quickly as the smothering dread had come, however, it vanquished under the loudening conversations between the seated bugs in front of the stage. Ghost turned to observe the other vessels among them on the stage, since they may have been future co-workers - strange, how Ghost hadn’t noticed them before. Actually, they could have sworn that they were the first onstage. They resolved that they had just been drifting off again, because it seemed that the whole room had changed: it was lively and bustling with bugs, the void lights were no longer blinding, and their favorite person in the whole auction house was _in the room with them!_

Sly, the owner of the auction house and (in Ghost’s opinion) the entire economy, arrived with a flair only the tiny could have. Sly’s coat was characteristically bold, the posh mauve cloak _emphasizing_ his small stature. Despite his underwhelming size, all the bidders in the room from near or afar knew that his personality and combat abilities greatly juxtaposed his height. Sly’s arrival meant that the bidding was about to start. What came next was always Ghost’s favorite part of the auction; Sly never knew who the vessels in the auction were until the day of. So, Ghost was sure they could almost _hear_ Sly sigh when his eyes landed on them. In all honesty, Ghost wished that Sly would take them in for apprenticeship under his belt again. That blasted Oro had already grown up and left, so there’d be nobody to get them fired. Again.

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the 4,376th auction that the Hallownest Auction House has hosted.” Ghost welcomed the quiet victory when Sly had a defeated hint present in his tone as he turned to address the crowd. “We’ll be casting our bids in the line from left to right: to start, the first vessel _never sleeps_ and has a tendency to…” At this point, Ghost had started to get bored. So bored, in fact, that they completely neglected the auction, which wasn’t unusual for Ghost. Being attentive just wasn’t in their nature.

Instead, Ghost pursued an activity that was more in line with their best interests: looking for familiar faces. Scanning the crowd, Ghost was disappointed (but not surprised) to see no one they knew. However, there was a strange face similar to their own. Ghost stifled a huff of laughter when they came across the conclusion that his head looked like a crooked trapezoid, not unlike the one Monomon would attempt to draw on the white board when she was illegally tutoring them in academics. What made it harder not to giggle was the fact that the stranger’s face featured a fixed scowl that was most assuredly a resting bitch face.

Strange, then, that though the auction was going on the two maintained eye contact for a whole 10 seconds.

Ghost was the first to break eye contact when their place was called, the light shining directly overhead as they instinctively looked directly forward as they were first instructed long ago.

“Now, you may have heard about this vessel’s shenani…”

Despite this being their moment to impress the crowd, Ghost found themselves lost within their thoughts. Who was that? Why would he stare at them for so long when there were other vessels to stare at? His scathing glare certainly felt condescending.

Ghost was used to being, well, the _ghost_ . They didn’t even have anything to go by until Hornet named them so late into their adolescence. Usually, the only time other bugs addressed them directly was when they had messed up. What had they done wrong _now?_ Were they performing poorly by simply existing? They felt themselves becoming increasingly self-conscious, and Ghost desperately yearned to lunge into the pool of shadows that collected in the corner, _home_ \- and never re-emerging.

_Home, home, where it’s safe. Where nobody yells at you, where you’re free to play all day, where nobody expects perfection._

Ghost really missed their siblings.

They were physically yanked out of their thoughts when a jarring roar rose among the crowd like an all-encompassing tide. Ghost felt their attention swept to where the light now shone, having long passed Ghost.

“Alright, alright, the auction is over! You’ve bought nearly my entire stock. Off you go,” Sly announced, the magnificent solitary light reflecting off his cloak. As the background lights began to fade back into their blinding facade, Ghost noticed that they were the only one left on the stage. All the other vessels, their siblings, were gone. With a symphony of grumbles, the bugs in the audience took their departure.

Well, this was certainly strange. Who had bought them?

A sympathetic, somber sigh escaped from the auction owner behind them.

“Come with me.”

Ghost didn’t have much choice but to follow, did they?

Dread filled every inch of their carapace as Ghost followed, uncharacteristically huddled and anxious. In all their years of experience in the auction house, this was an entirely new outcome. Though they did desire new experiences for the sake of avoiding the repetition vessels were so accustomed to, this hardly seemed appropriate. As Sly turned to address Ghost in the empty room they had never known existed, they could see his reluctance to close the door behind them.

Ghost was on the verge of panic.

Sly was very familiar with hiding his emotions and being patient, unwavering. After all, he did tutor _three_ teenagers under his apprenticeship. No, scratch that - three teenagers _and_ Ghost: a recipe for chaos. Seeing Sly clearly upset and hesitant to speak to Ghost was genuinely disturbing. In fact, Sly didn’t even speak to them at all. He clearly wanted to; he kept taking in short breaths to speak before halting his efforts and leaving Ghost alone in the room.

And locking it.

Huh?

* * *

Upon closing the door in a relatively collected manner, Sly only managed to stumble away.

_Shit._

Ghost was void. That’s all they - no, _it_ \- was. The Collector was a little… strange, but it had to be done. Void was going to run out eventually... there was only so much they could use. For Wyrm’s sake, they used such a large amount of the void in the Abyss making lights! _Lights!_ Void had to be recycled so Hallownest could make more meaningful breakthroughs, things that would actually improve life. Vessels were literally just void inside an empty husk.

So why did it feel so wrong? Why did Sly feel so attached, especially when he knew what they actually were?

He swiftly abandoned those thoughts when he glanced at his surroundings, only to notice the walls empty. _Empty as the void should be,_ Sly thought. _Where did all my geo- I mean, customers, go?_ He suspiciously walked through the halls after regaining his gentlemanly composure but turned when a growing sense of dread weighed upon him. What was that incessant tapping down the hall?

Sly’s heart plunged deep into his stomach as he thought he had imagined it. However, Sly never imagined anything. Rather, he was a businessman. A businessman who’d rather wait for a stable rise in product value... before mass selling it until the price crashed, of course. He was more than used to assassination attempts sent after him by his furious competitors.

However, this unease was unrivaled by any of those hitmen. Sly didn’t hesitate, then, to confront the imminent danger despite not having a weapon, nor knowing what to expect. What Sly saw caused him such horror that he quickly fled in the face of such a shock.

* * *

Ghost opted to wait. Perhaps Sly just needed time before speaking to them about whatever horrors awaited them. Maybe he was collecting his thoughts right outside the door. Yes, he must be clearing out a closet in his home so they can be apprenticed again. Yes.

…

They couldn’t take it.

They launched off the lone chair Ghost had pulled from the wall to the middle of the room. They abandoned the single void-light they were sitting under, away from the dull, flickering light’s comforting presence as they ran toward the door. The suspiciously barren room left Ghost’s mental state in shambles like it was solitary confinement. Perhaps it was. Ghost had vaulted off the chair so hurriedly that they greeted the door with a mighty _thud_ when they smashed their horns directly on it, tripping over their own stumbling feet. They rapped on the door desperately.

Ghost hated being left all alone.

But nobody answered the door. Sly wasn’t there after all. He wasn’t collecting his thoughts right beside the door, and probably wasn’t preparing for Ghost’s apprenticeship either. They had no alternative but to keep being as obnoxious as possible. Even if that didn’t get them out, Ghost pondered, it’d still be a hilarious prank on the bugs they disliked. But despite their sense of humor, they declared all hope lost when they had been banging on the door constantly for Wyrm knew how long. Just as when they had given up, sliding away from the door, they heard distant humming and the jingle of… of _keys_ down the hall, causing Ghost to take up punching the door again like their life depended on it.

Suddenly, the humming silenced. Unstable footsteps sounded outside the door, _tap-tap, tap,_ Ghost hopping with glee. They were free, they were free! The door opened with such raw force before them, though, that Ghost thought the liberator was immensely angry at them. The door flung open with so much power it deeply dented the wall. The bug was only slightly taller than Ghost, and him being scrawny made this feat implausible, but that wasn’t what caught their attention.

The bug had orange blobs of juicy goop strolling down his cheeks. All the gaps in his shell seething with orange froth like a Tiktik with rabies. On the ground collected the sickly sweet clumps in a rapidly building pile. The only sound that escaped the bug was a strangled groan of utter despair, drowned out by the orange seeping out of his gums.

If Ghost could scream, they wouldn’t hesitate to. The presence of the infection was of no surprise to them; in fact, they and their siblings had dreamt vividly of the Radiance since they were born. They were terrible nightmares that would boggle their minds and twist their senses until they were hopelessly tangled, torment the vessels’ individuality and unleash so potent a fear into their very cores that nothing would seem a remedy to such a feeling of uselessness. Yet, in this moment, none of that mattered. All Ghost could muster out of their panicked brain was that the bug in front of them wanted to kill them. They had no doubt he would tear them limb from limb and probably relish it.

Like _hell_ Ghost was going out like that. Sly didn’t tutor them for nothing!

The confrontation exploded into action as Ghost spun around and dove for the chair, the false liberator that was hot on their heels aiming to puncture them with the sharp, glinting keys they grasped in their clenched fist.

As the bug lunged to drive the weapon in the small of their back, Ghost pivoted to grab the chair leg now within reach, twirling on their foot to smash the chair directly into the attacker’s face with all the might a small, cornered bug determined to live can have.

Though the chair was the one that broke on impact, the infected bug was thoroughly dazed, as one should be when hit directly in the face with a chair. His clouded eyes no longer focused on Ghost, they noticed with a shiver. As he dropped his keys in the shock of the roundhouse, the adrenaline-filled Ghost took the opportunity to seize the keys from directly underneath the bug and flee, scrambling quite literally under his nose to escape the encounter.

As they aimlessly tore through the now-empty halls of the auction house, the world seemed to be humming with orange, sour as an unripened apricot. For the first time in years, the extravagant corridors were as disorienting as they were during Ghost’s first venture, leaving their mind addled and grasping for any sign of familiarity. Every time they caught the whisper of footsteps, they melted into the ever-present shadows to tensely watch as more infected citizens wandered the halls mindlessly.

They firmly decided to find where the other vessels awaited despite Ghost’s pressing terror, only completely losing their way in the labyrinth a great many times.

As Ghost turned a corner they thought they had crossed a million times, they halted, thinking to go back. They were turning around as they heard more grumbling the way they came.

 _Nope, nope, nope,_ Ghost repeated to themselves. They’d rather continue down the hall, thank you very much.

Of course, they stumbled across the room within that very corridor. Looks like Ghost hadn’t been there after all. The large, ominous door that disrupted the seamless and excellently carved walls of the auction house was simply designed; the grand, unchiseled steel door held no engravings other than the outline of the Pale King - _my Father,_ Ghost noted cruelly. How ironic it was that the one confining the vessels to such a world in which they would inevitably die and be cast aside as husks was their father himself. Born from his blood. His _children._

These thoughts continued to run through Ghost’s head as they bitterly, furiously thrust the keys in the glowing slot and heaved the huge weighted door open.

They were confronted with nothing but the murky shadows of the dark room, but their eyes could see. Their eyes could see the apprehensive stares of their siblings, numb to the fear that once resided. Cursing his father for the last time, Ghost shoved the door open until it hit the wall and fiercely beckoned for the army of vessels to escape.

They don’t know what they expected, but in hindsight they should have known.

Their siblings did not move.

Ghost understood. They could do nothing more for them, so they dropped the keys on the ground hoping they’d take initiative and, realizing the gravity of the situation, bolted. They regretted leaving their siblings to fend for themselves but soon soldiers would arrive and find Ghost in a place they shouldn’t be again. More importantly, though, Ghost needed a means of escape. They had no clue what that empty room was all about, but what they _did_ know was that the room held only futures that were abruptly cut.

Though the vessels held no foresight like their father, they did have some measure of prediction. A vague, crushing sense coupled with an irrational desire to engage in fight or flight right before death.

They knew that if they were found again, there would be no more second chances.

As Ghost emerged from the open window on the side of the auction house upon seeing the main door barricaded from the exterior, they noticed that Dirtmouth was more serene than expected. Sure, the thick, rolling blobs of infection littered the streets of the recently industrialized town, but the corpses had already been removed and the uninfected bugs were cleaning the sidewalk. It also appeared that the citizens had blocked off the auction house. Smart move. And only after standing in place for a long while did Ghost realize that the locals would not appreciate an escaped vessel missing an owner.

Shoot.

As they desperately scrambled underneath an unassuming wagon on the street to hide they prayed, prayed to any god that wasn’t their father or the Radiance. They hoped that nobody had seen them drifting off in the open, a vessel that should not have been there.

Too late.

Too late did they actually hide, for Ghost heard shouts of soldiers as they not only saw the vessel, but recognized who they were. Ghost slipped out from under the wagon they had fruitlessly sought for cover and booked it. They didn’t know where; all they knew was that they had to lose the guards.

Glancing behind them, Ghost nearly tripped doing a double-take. The pursuers looked all too similar to those guards in the beautiful City of Tears that had apprehended them, Ghost remembered, when they made a mess jumping in puddles and splashing all the bugs around them. They had been delivering reports so old that they were stashed in Lemm’s shop all the way to Lurien and his assistant. Yeah, they had gotten a little sidetracked.

Intensely hoping that these were in fact _not_ the same bugs, Ghost picked up the pace down the narrow street that lined the industrial district, factories and the like flashing by as they shot through the town. With any luck, the guards would have better things to do, but they knew this wasn’t the case. It never was. At the turn at the end of the street, soldiers undoubtedly close behind, Ghost skidded into the intensely populated market streets.

Dirtmouth was a hub for trade and commerce, with such a viable location responsible for the influx of bugs in the welcoming town. Also, the place directly imported luminous gems by the bucket-fulls from the eastward crystal mines to sell, still pristine and perfect. It wasn’t a stretch that a successful settlement like Dirtmouth would harbor rich neighborhoods housing the locals, featuring bright, jolly colors that contrasted the eternally gloomy atmosphere of the other zone, riddled with poverty. Despite Dirtmouth’s fortunate trade, however, its space was limited; the residences of the happier district were so cramped and huddled together that the roads had to be narrowed and the shops were clustered in groups. Though the atmosphere wasn’t for everyone, it certainly brought the citizens together.

For the residents, it was a tranquil weekend night, early enough that it still flourished with life but late enough that all the children were asleep. The careless bugs celebrating were none the wiser of the skirmish in the industrial district; the night shift had not yet returned.

Ghost barreled through the friendly, tourist-oriented streets of Dirtmouth as fast as their tiny legs could take them, hauling the chaos from the other district in their wake.

In being seen fleeing the guards, the residents tried to shift away, only to quarrel with one another as they bumped their arms against the others’. This made Ghost giggle; their biggest mistake was taking their eyes off the little vessel.

They opted to cause a little mayhem.

As they ran down their makeshift runway provided _generously_ by the guests, Ghost snatched a mushroom from one of the more dwarfed bugs, earning them a _“Hey!”_ from the poor guy. _It’s all for a good cause_ , they thought as they hurled one of the mushrooms directly into one of their pursuer’s faces. For the record, the shock on their face was glorious. Ghost cackled as they vaulted over a small box, only to launch off the side, which sent them flying forward as the box tumbled back and tripped the same bug. He had furiously picked up the pace after being laughed at by his comrades, only to now fall back once more.

Ghost was having the _time of their life!_

They reveled in the mayhem they spread. Ghost then made split-second decisions on what street to take next: _left, right, right, straight, left, right,_ ensuring they would find themselves hopelessly lost. Ghost knew that the funnest things played out when they were wandering. Exactly as they had anticipated, when they grew increasingly tired they began to bump into anything and everything, slowing Ghost’s escape but still earning delightful expressions of barely contained rage from their victims. The guards still pursuing, Ghost turned and clumsily shoved barrels down the hill toward them before turning and resuming their bumbling steps up the incline.

Ghost only started to truly run when the guards sped to be right on their heels, despite their antics.

The vessel sought to lose them the only other way they knew how: being chaotic. Spotting a large, large group of bugs gathered in the middle of the street ahead, Ghost launched themselves into the forest of legs far below, crawling and cackling silently as they overheard the guards ordering the group to split.

Emerging from the opposite side, they suddenly came face to face with a guard. They stared at each other in surprise for a heartbeat before the guard swept her hand down towards Ghost, in which they dived underneath her hand and between her legs, rolling to a stand behind her. They were very skilled at diving under things, they realized. They vowed to do it more often.

Ghost charged up the inclined street past her like a bull on the loose - which they were. Leaving the guard spluttering and yelling at her fellow pursuers, Ghost looked behind them nervously only to bump into a large wagon, forcing all their momentum to a halt. Plump and leafy green orbs tumbled out of the side.

_“My cabbages!”_

Whoops!

Bubbling with excitement, Ghost punted some of the orbs - cabbages, they were called - toward the remaining guards, becoming more smug when all of them tripped. They turned to keep running and running and running through the endless streets until they truly couldn’t anymore and elected to collapse obscured in an alleyway, heaving from both the lack of breath and unrestrained laughter.

After waiting for what felt like an eternity to come down from their adrenaline high, they resolved that they had lost the relentless guards. With a heavy sigh that relaxed their posture, Ghost sought freedom. They could just taste its sweet, tempting truths, but they knew there was something else they must do first.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> props to my friend for beta reading this, idk if she wants her user out or not so ima just wait till she founds out i credited her and wait so :))) lmao if you're reading this helLO  
> this was supposed to be 1000 words, half of chapter 1, wtf happened? why am i like this?? it's literally 4k words now,,,  
> also ghost being a little bitch has me cackling in my seat i- god it's so wonderful  
> and avatar the last airbender has been a huge part of my life so cabbages exist, you're welcome


	2. Through His Pale Eyes

The ascent up to Dirtmouth was simply _awful._

It had been such a long time since the Pale King had a serious reason to leave the White Palace, such a long time since he had stretched his wings. What made the trip even more taxing was that the king could easily see imperfections in everything; lesser bugs were flawed, after all, so he really shouldn’t have been surprised. The doorway to the trams was an inch off-center, the elevator to the City had the slightest creak, and the Crossroads’ housing took on a diagonal appearance as though twisted on an axis when walking down the street if one looked hard enough.

 _All the more to fix in my free time_ , the Pale King supposed.

The ruler of Hallownest had completely run out of tasks to turn to. Realizing this, his faithful patron Lurien had begun fabricating false reports requesting the king’s presence _only_ so he could take walks on his own.

While he appreciated the effort, the Pale King politely refused Lurien’s attempts at kindness every time.

Until now. This report was real.

A minor issue, but one only he could fix. Another minor infection outbreak among the livestock, it seemed. Apparently the Radiance had not much else to do, either. Seeing the king prepare for such a “dangerous” departure to Dirtmouth, his Lady demanded he bring the Vessel with her.

Ah yes, the Vessel.

The king wasn’t sure what to do with that one; ever since Herrah left when the infection ransacked their village ( _it must be an old grudge of the Radiance’s against her_ _,_ he supposed) and Monomon was infected and therefore comatose, he hadn’t been able to find the proper Dreamers to seal the infection. It was a shame the king had already bestowed abilities upon the dreamers: Herrah with the ability to enhance her disciples’ silk with soul, Monomon being able to destroy seals of any variety, and Lurien being semi-omniscient with his third eye. However, their absences opened new doors by closing old ones.

Despite its tendency to create a hivemind amongst its victims, the infection was very nutritious as well as delicious. Since it was spread only through emotional connection, it was physically harmless. The husks’ infectious pores could be drained for sap, as repulsive as that sounded, resulting in a runny syrup.

Only partially because the Pale Wyrm sought vengeance after his rival, he had the luminous idea to turn her weapon against her. Oh, how the tables have turned! When Monomon inspected the infection rampant in the tightly-knit Deepnest, she found it chocked full of healthy nutrients, for which the Radiance herself was likely responsible. How petty she must have felt, to think that she could defeat Hallownest with something so innocent. Perhaps she thought to spare her moths with its benefits?

Not only was the syrup healthy, but it could also be sold as a valuable food resource to travelers and neighboring kingdoms, who would undoubtedly obey the unnecessarily expensive tariffs just to get their hands on the infection. Such an item would be well versed in a world fond of taste and lacking in agriculture.

The king discovered, therefore, that the infection would aid Hallownest in its growth, both economically and in its populace. How foolish of his rival.

For the Wyrm’s plans to be fully realised, he just had to wait until the Vessel’s first molt so it could properly host the infection, distributing it when commanded. It was essentially the same as the plan with the Dreamers, except they’d be spared. With the Vessel’s new purpose came a renewed hope for the kingdom, when all had seemed lost. All the Pale King had to do was protect the Vessel.

The Wyrm sighed as he passed the Crossroads settlement to approach his last obstacle. Grumbling with the effort, he pumped his wings effortlessly, Vessel in hand, to scale the cliff that separated him and the grand door that led to Hallownest’s pride: Dirtmouth.

See, the Pale King would undoubtedly love Dirtmouth with its gorgeous crystal imports and the wonderful architecture. That is, if it weren’t for the void lights.

Honestly, the Pale King was just drunk when he made the void lights, but they grew into a trend - _“Made by the Pale King himself!”_ , his citizens would say. What was he even thinking when he made those?

Squinting through the threatening glare of the cursed lamps strewn across the streets, he trudged into the latter district - the industrial zone.

Frankly, the industrial district wasn’t much better. Though the void lights were mercifully less prevalent, the area held an air of despair about it. As much as the Pale King noticed the flaws in his bugs, he hadn’t wanted harm to come to them, even though many were lower class.

The caste system set upon the bugs of Hallownest had not been the Pale King’s doing; sure, it was a vital part of the kingdom’s economy, but he couldn’t help but feel as if they were all his responsibility. His children.

Which was why the infection was needed to sustain his bugs, he was reminded. Poverty was a running issue in the kingdom, with the farmland being so scarce. Most of Hallownest was stone, the dirt above being whisked away by the unforgiving gusts of the Wastes beyond.

As he steadily walked down the road to the end of the long, simple street to the factory with the livestock in question, not a soul was in sight. Excluding the Vessel on his heels, of course, but it didn’t count. However, he _did_ hear excited chattering from the large red building to his left. He turned to observe the building: Auction House, it said. He recalled that it often auctioned off rogue vessels during the weekends.

Honestly, the vessels felt… lesser than the rest of the bugs in his kingdom. They were simply void in a hollowed-out shell that he concocted. Nothing more. As he detachedly turned from the lively building he couldn’t help but glance at the Vessel. How strange it was, how the Vessel was set apart from the others. Devoid of any emotion. Perfect for containing the infection, even if in a new way. Sleeplessly trained to fight for its king until destroyed, with such a lack of self-preservation that even belflies would be impressed.

As the thoughts of his rival’s first attempted assassination using his own citizens raced through his mind, he discerned that the Radiance was likely to take this opportunity to try to strike her rival down. Perhaps it wasn’t such a bad thing that the Vessel had attended after all.

The Pale King approached the looming factory reeking with waste as potent as Ogrim’s. Booflies were the perfect livestock, save for the fact that they could fly and had to be contained: they were rich in fat, docile, and relatively simple to slaughter. _It’d be all the more beneficial if they were infected,_ he thought.

_All great things come with a cost, however._

The booflies had a shitty odor. Literally.

Commanding the Vessel to cover where he thought its nose would be as simply an act of courtesy and the Pale King clutching his own, they plunged into the pungent factory to “investigate” the contaminated Booflies.

* * *

The Pale King sarcastically marveled at how investigating the infection in livestock could consume almost the whole day. Perhaps the journey to the far side of Dirtmouth from the Ancient Basin contributed to the length of his absence, but he still had every right to be annoyed. Even more so when he still had to make the return trip on his own aching feet. Such was the life of a selfless king.

As he was lost in his thoughts, listlessly walking down the street with the Vessel, he couldn’t help but notice that something was amiss.

There was no speech from the auction house he was passing, despite the fact that the auction was supposed to continue deep into the night.

There were no exhausted trods from the workers roaming the streets.

All was silent.

The Wyrm knew the signs of a present god; the crushing presence was all too familiar. And so the Pale King tuned into his surroundings in a world only he could see. The light gave him guidance; he took it. Everything around him was as black as - as the _void,_ save for his blinding self. Like a lantern held aloft in the murky air, he floated amongst the oppressing dark. It reminded him that he held no power here. The Pale King, a god of higher thought, was _vulnerable,_ he knew with a shiver. He knew deep down in his chitin.

Shaking off the foreboding dread that had set in, he braced himself as he dimmed his signature light to focus his eyes to the dark that threatened to crush him. He was looking for the familiar orange tint that overtook the void as slightly as his; the Pale King’s rival often held an aura of anger about her, one that was so readily detectable in the world of void and numbness.

As soon as his pale eyes scoured the space her orange flare occupied, her roar filled the world. Her shriek seemed to stretch for miles without losing its strength; he felt himself being swept away by the sheer force of her hurt, her _rage._ When he was unwillingly pulled from that painful dimension, he was treated with a ghastly sight that honestly should not have shaken him at that point.

How bittersweet.

The Vessel stood next to the Pale King’s hunched body, who was shaken with what he saw, _heard,_ and it defended him against the same crowd that had been roaming the streets some thirteen hours ago. How strange, then, that the Vessel fought despite the king having never given them a command. As he observed, he quickly banished that thought; the Vessel battled confidently with slashes and cuts aimed with surgical precision. No ordinary bug could master such a feat, surely. 

As the Vessel kept striking down the husks in numbers, the king knew the slaughter had to stop. His bugs were needed to work, not to become dead husks in the streets.

Ever since his revelation that the Radiance would target him, he had been saving his glow, conserving it to banish the infection that would inevitably arrive on that day. He regretted not blessing his citizens with his glistening shine during his trek to Dirtmouth, but it was for the good of many. So after he had seen enough of the Vessel’s fighting (not without a speck of pride), he released his overpowering glow.

Any lower being that had seen the burst of pure, blinding light would have certainly had their eyes glistened over permanently by even the aftermath, even though it only lasted a moment. The flash itself was many times brighter than the sun itself, and just as hot. The Pale King was so blazing hot, in fact, that the light alone scorched a deep hole into the middle of the street where the king and the Vessel stood. The light slowly ebbed into what came to be merely a dim illumination, a meager portion of his usual flare. It was no more luminous than a lone lumafly. The Vessel mercifully cradled in the Pale King’s arms, protected by his will, the Wyrm collapsed as he looked about him.

 _I’ll summon the menderbugs in the morning,_ he decided as he drearily realized the decimation around him. And the lack of her presence, he noted.

The infection was gone. For now.

There was no doubt she would be back, but his flash was so bright it scared off even the god of light for a short while. He would feel victorious if he wasn’t so _exhausted._

The Wyrm turned tentatively towards the sounds of hurried footsteps behind him, and faced a trio of Hallownest guards. All three bowed deeply at the sight of him, their expressions shifting from one of hostility to something more reflective of reverence, their voices carefully polite despite the destruction he caused.

“My Lord, the Lady herself demanded that we escort you back to the palace. She said it is too dangerous,” the tallest one said apologetically. The other two piped in only by nodding their heads vigorously.

The king dragged himself up and trudged past the guards, saying nothing. As they walked down the street, his dulled demeanor was instantly outshone by his citizens’ immediate reaction to the danger being diminished; though they didn’t recognize him through his quiet glow, bugs large and small gathered in the dead of night to talk and run and play, despite being in the industrial district long engulfed in poverty.

He neglected to notice that he still held the Vessel until he reached the end of the street. When he realized, he immediately elected to put it down, lest an idea be instilled. He doubted emotion would take hold on the thing, but a God of higher knowledge such as himself had to take extra precautions. He tried to limit his time with the Vessel as much as possible, only taking it out for his walks outside the palace. He tried to keep his distance that night.

Which was a _terrible_ idea.

As the Wyrm shifted away from the Vessel, it drifted off only slightly. It was only logical, considering the exhilaration it had just undergone. However, he couldn’t help but think for but a moment that this was a sign of will.

He barely had time to finish that thought, however, for a small hand flicked out of the alleyway to the right and took the Vessel with it. He barely had time to register what just happened.

Luckily, the guards moved before him, shouting “That’s the one! _Get it!”_ It appeared the guards and the creature had history.

The Pale King continued to stand in place like a fool for quite some time before he comprehended that his Vessel, his only chance at salvaging this kingdom, was gone. Disappeared like the wind itself. Lost within the gathering crowds of an overjoyed Dirtmouth.

_Oh Mother Wyrm…_

On the verge of panic and knowing he couldn’t pursue the intruder in his state, he ran to the well-patrolled district across Dirtmouth despite his panicked drowsiness to call for a legion of guards. Or perhaps he should bargain with a specific mercenary he had in mind, lest the guards somehow failed.

He had a Vessel or two to catch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my PLANS god i have so many headcanons to slap on this fic this is gonna be dope  
> pk you had ONE JOB, you funny little idiot fork man worm  
> ghost is that sibling that makes you ride the roller coaster with them and you can't say no because they're SO CUTE HDGFUIGRHAOFHIA  
> also my friend SqueakyClam beta read this so props for reminding me to give herrah a blessing lmao


	3. "Night of Dreams"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is kinda wonk because they don't know each other's names yet so,, the Vessel uppercase is PV/HK and the vessel lowercase is ghost (from pv's pov). sometimes ghost refers to PV/HK as a vessel but that's because they don't know they're a prince now

The Vessel was tired.

Their legs could hardly keep from quaking and their eyes couldn’t help but droop beneath their mask, but years of self-discipline probed them to suffer quietly and stand straight despite their exhaustion. They had to; otherwise, they would be discarded. Useless, to be cast aside. Like all their siblings.

The Vessel had left all of them when they needed the eldest the most.

Perhaps that was why the stunted vessel ahead of them yanked them along hurriedly in the alleyway without regard to their condition. Why was the Vessel being pulled along? Why weren’t they resisting?  _ If they want revenge, I’d let them, _ they thou-

_ Do not think. _

They would not. Never.

There was danger with thought. Even now, the Vessel could feel the Radiance pushing against their mind, desperate to conquer someone near the king. The world dimmed and time fleeted as they mentally pushed back, closing the doors, closing the windows. Repairing the walls torn down by joy and pain and everything in between into something more familiar, fortified with nothing but the steel the vessels were never able to cut through. Nothing would be able to enter or leave, not even themselves, from their quiet room of darkness. Home.

_ Home, home, where it’s safe. Where all your family is, where you’re free to play all day, where everybody is together. _

Their mind was safe.

They abruptly released their control and the world rushed when the small, curious vessel in front of them halted, only for them both to topple over each other. The Vessel was sure it made quite the comedic sight: a prince and an escapade tumbling head-over-toe in the middle of the busy street. At least that had made someone’s day.

When the Vessel stood to see why they stopped, what stood were the rapidly approaching guards skidding out from where the alley they had run through merged onto the wide street. The bystanders were most certainly delaying the pursuers, judging by the way the curious bugs crowded around the vessels in the market-lined lane. Nevertheless, the guards were getting closer. It was unfortunate that they had to return to their father so soon; they had quite liked the adventure, despite how tired they were.

The Vessel prepared to submit to the guards, to stride forward pridefully only to be taken. They were making the first step when the sibling behind them snatched their hand again, more desperate than furious. The vessel’s despair caused them to look back at the ghost, who grasped their hand tightly but gently and stared up at the Vessel's face with… with… 

The most  _ adorable _ eyes they had ever seen.  _ Oh my Wyrm, _ they exclaimed.

The little vessel hadn’t wanted to bully them after all, for no such being could harm a tiktik. The Vessel was overwhelmed for the first time since leaving the rest of their siblings with the want to protect, to protect this little sibling that was so cute, so precious.

Wait.

Want?

_ But how can one want without a mind to think? _

As the Vessel was entering a crisis, the sibling tugged persistently. The Vessel hesitated for a brief moment because they were conflicted whether to share in their sibling’s rebellion or to be what they were expected to be. The one to seal the infection.

They opted for the former.

The Vessel stumbled forward as they were pulled along, but they dared not resist, lest they hurt their fragile sibling. The foolishly sympathetic crowd of bugs parted for the two underdogs as they unstably ran from the elites. They were terrifyingly close now, somehow having run the grand mile distancing them in under 5 minutes.

Not without a few curses, the guards had no choice but to shove fearlessly through the agitated blockade. How lucky the two were that the civilians were all ignorant enough of castes and valued something akin to  _ equality. _ The Vessel never understood that word. It felt foul on their tongue. Their tongue that couldn’t even move, for they had been bred with no voice to cry. No voice to cry suffering.

Their father’s voice chimed in their head, his frigid tone echoing in their skull.

_ No cost too great. _

The vessels were lesser. They were born slaves, formed from the wild void inhabiting the husk of a child.

The Vessel couldn’t help but wonder who their body used to belong to. They regretted taking it, felt guilty almost.

The guards yelling intangible insults were approaching far more quickly than the runaways could flee. After all, the Vessel themselves was half the imperials’ heights, and never mind the younger sibling. The guards were relentlessly trained to give chase and patrol, while the Vessel was sure the other didn’t run nearly as often, judging by their shuddering huffs even though they had only run a few miles.

The Vessel was again considering giving in, if only to release the panic writhing in their gut and the void burbling under their carapace, with the knowledge they couldn’t escape. Besides, they  _ hated _ confrontation. As far as they cared, it could go jump into the ravine in Kingdom’s Edge and never return.

They’d surrender, the Vessel decided as they sluggishly moved through the busy main street. First though, they looked, really  _ looked _ at the vessel in front of them. The sibling’s body language  _ screamed _ of  _ run, run run _ , the terrified aura spreading to the crowd around them and to the Vessel themselves. The Vessel sympathetically chose to at least help the runaway out of Hallownest, since that was obviously their goal. Where else would one go to run from their responsibilities?

Determined to help them, they tore past their sibling, still hand-in-hand, leaving the stunted vessel scrambling to keep pace. They would never outrun the guards at this rate, so the Vessel had to find a more... unconventional solution.

They turned to the right at an intersection bustling with activity late at night in the long, wide street. The streets were lined with both void lights and exotic lanterns brightening the street with complementing colors, each from a different homeland. Bugs unfamiliar to the Hallownestians gathered to sell and commune with the locals, spreading culture and dancing in the streets. No doubt it’d be difficult to get through, but the Vessel was glad Hallownest was accepting new culture. The kingdom needed to change.

Sad that they were causing such mayhem.

The vessels abruptly stopped around the corner as the guards were caught off guard and shot past briefly in their momentum; shortly after they heard a large crash.

_ “Nooo! Who keeps destroying my cabbages??” _ cried a bug with a foreign, sharp accent from behind them.

Needless to say, the two had time. The Vessel felt their sibling numbly holding their hand as the two dragged themselves beside a rare empty marketstand, where they’d at least have some cover.

There was no other way to outrun the guards because their sibling was too slow, and without a doubt the pursuers were resuming their chase already, perhaps with friends. Even so, the two wondered for a moment why this was the only solution they could find. Not that either of them cared, honestly. The Vessel stooped down into a squat and leaned forward, looking behind them.

The sibling understood. As if in sync, the little ghost immediately swung their legs up onto the elder’s shoulders to grip the thick, curving horns on the Vessel’s head. Bracing the small one with their hands for a moment, the two shambled out of hiding casually and for once the Vessel felt truly  _ free,  _ to be giving their vessel friend a piggy-back ride down the street as the guards recuperated.

* * *

Ghost felt the still wind shift slightly around their heads as the two dashed through the street.

Ghost had  _ no idea _ where they were going! Not that it mattered.

They leaned over a little farther to get a better look at their sibling.  _ They’re so amazing, _ Ghost thought admirably; their pale cloak reflected the void lights to actually make the horrid invention look pretty for once, their perfectly symmetrical face taunted every other around them, and their litheness bested everyone on the block,  _ including _ Ghost!

The vessel had no issue diving and weaving through the crowd like water, seemingly melting into the crowd. If Ghost hadn’t been literally on top of their head, they’d have lost their best friend in an instant.

It was no surprise, then, that the elder sibling outwitted the guards, who were definitely never going to catch them in the first place. But still, the added level of security their friend brought was well placed.

For as they rocketed down the familiar long road leading directly from the crystal peaks to the far cliffside, they swore the guards were getting farther and farther away. Chuckling under their soundproofed shell, Ghost leaned forward joyfully over their sibling’s mask.

Unfortunately, that blocked their view. And their focus.

The elder vessel skidded slightly in their blindness only to trip over their own newly-molted legs, which resulted in a wipeout that all the passersby on the sidewalk felt themselves. The siblings could  _ feel _ any onlookers wince.

Ghost was the first to recover, seeing how they had only landed on the soft, padded cloak of their sibling instead of on the coarse street. They bounced up and down frantically and flailed their arms to signal that they needed to  _ go. _ The guards would surely come soon!

With a grumble, the sibling slowly, haltingly,  _ painfully _ recovered to a stand, clutching their scraped head in one hand.  _ We need to hurry if we’re going to escape, _ Ghost repeated in their panicked head. They didn’t have telepathy or anything, but they were sure going to try.

And as if it couldn’t get any worse, both turned ahead to see the crowd dispersing to reveal Hegemol the Mighty blocking their path.

Even without a weapon, he was still intimidating enough to make even the bravest feel the urge to cower in their shells. His large stature towered over every bug in the street, his height easily outmatching even the most impressive of the taller, foreign merchants. His neatly polished armor seemed to glow in the chaotic light, seeming to unify it with the perfection only the Pale King’s court had; the horns of his helmet thinned until paper-thin at the end, courtesy of only the most renowned armourers. His wide, fine helmet seemed to shoot a furious, dangerous glare at everyone at once, scaring the crowd off like repellent. The lower- and middle-classes had every right to be seeking shelter from the cruel knight.

However, Ghost knew of Hegemol’s facade.  
Hegemol was one of the kindest, most thoughtful bugs they had ever met. 

While their sibling tensed and unconsciously shifted their hand to grip the hilt of their nail, Ghost reveled in the free pass.

Ghost knew Hegemol. He would  _ definitely _ not snitch.

Ghost grasped the sibling’s hand gleefully (earning a slight flinch from their well-mannered friend), fully intending to “sneak” past Hegemol. However, all Ghost’s comforts shattered when Hegemol drew his next breath.

_ “Ghost.” _

His voice was… sharper than usual. He sounded angry. Why was Hegemol angry?

“Hand me the Vessel,” he demanded. Ghost wasn’t entirely sure why he was making orders, because the both of them knew very well that they wouldn’t listen to any bug. And why did he say  _ vessel _ so deliberately? What was it they were missing?

Hegemol stomped heavily,  _ threateningly _ closer as he huffed, “That vessel is property of the King himself. Normally I let your antics go, Ghost, but this is where I draw the line.”

Ghost was frightened.

Perhaps remembering he was communicating with but a child, Hegemol raised his hand up to his helmet and backed up slightly. His head lowered apologetically. He took a deep breath for a moment before he extended his hand towards them.

Not the right move.

Much to both Hegemol’s and Ghost’s surprise, their sibling launched out of Ghost’s grip to avoid Hegemol’s beckon. They unsheathed their nail and flew forward to uppercut, their body elegantly shifting back afterwards as if expecting a counter.

Hegemol retracted his strong hand with nothing but a flinch despite the leakage of hemolymph spilling from it. Luckily, he had great instincts as a knight and snubbed out the possibility of a gorey outcome before it came to flourish. The returning audience exaggeratingly gasped to accommodate the moment. Ghost was glad they could always count on the civilians for an escape!

Seizing the opportunity to flee the larger, slower Hegemol, Ghost gently held their sibling’s hand so as to not frighten them further. As Ghost lead the sibling directly past Hegemol, they watched the mighty knight carefully. At any moment, he could recover and give chase. However, it seemed they had bought just enough time.

It seemed that the crowd had formed a makeshift arena during the scuffle, assembling in a near-perfect circle (except for some young outliers startlingly close and raring for a fight) comprised of an especially thick wall of bugs with the trio in the center. Classic.

The two picked up the pace only after they passed Hegemol to tear into the crowd, hoping to hide in plain sight. The crowd tried to avoid them but with nowhere for them to disperse, they had no choice but to live with the fact that there were two vicious runaways among them. Which was well enough, because Ghost was sure the guards had caught up to Hegemol by now.

Luckily, the guards had lost Ghost yet again in the late-night crowd but the sibling had to stoop down uncomfortably, which made Ghost worry for their back. Anywho, the cover gave them some breathing room.

With the time spared, Ghost could finally comprehend the unusual activity Dirtmouth was getting. They assumed it was a festival night, but which one? Ghost tried to sort through the ones they knew, but there were far too many.  _ It’s beginning to get cold,  _ they remembered. So the Festival of… no, no, the Night of… the Night of Dreams?  _ The Night of Dreams, _ they believed.

Well that was ironic.

During the Night of Dreams, thousands of bugs from far and wide migrated to warmer climates as the year approached winter, resulting in an unusual influx of merchants and travelers in the even most secluded of places. Like Dirtmouth.

Wonderful ( _ tall,  _ they thought enviously) foreigners communed with the locals, sold their items from faraway lands and made friends. 

And the children! The children were so fun to play with and listen to, with wonderful stories of mountains thrice the size of the Crystal Peaks; deep, dark ravines illuminated by nothing but sentient fire descended from a  _ giant ball of flame _ beyond the clouds! Gods most beautiful and gods with millions of legs. Plains filled to the brim with layers and layers of powder colored with the whitest of whites. On the  _ ground! _ And it came from the  _ sky! _

Needless to say, Ghost loved the children.

The Night of Dreams involved the travelers’ home kingdoms’ sources of light, too: Pearls, bubbles, plants - even the bugs  _ themselves _ all administered the roads lively and vibrant with their sheens. The hues shifting slowly like rotating lights transformed the still and somber atmosphere of Hallownest and dazzled the world-weary locals; the visitors’ extravagance seemed the perfect antonym for Hallownest’s tired atmosphere. It was a breath of fresh air, nothing like the harsh winds from the Wastes. This had to be Ghost’s favorite holiday.

The two were briskly progressing down the street, taking in the sights and the wonder when they were met with a strange  _ “Ho!”  _ behind them. The sibling tensed again to bring their free hand to their nail in fear of a fight, but all was forgotten when Ghost turned to see who had approached.

Elderbug!

The old bug definitely holding pent-up frustrations about the festival disrupting his sleep waved tiredly. Oh, he was even wearing the delicate flower they sneakily brought him! And they were glad he liked the newly bloomed flower, especially since they had lost their job as a flower retailer when they stole it. When they began to ditch their sibling to listen to Elderbug’s struggles under the peaceful, vibrant lamps like they always did, though, they stopped.

The guards were behind Elderbug, without a doubt questioning the bystanders.

Everything suddenly became unimportant: their favorite festival, the travelers from faraway lands, the envy of others’ heights, the thrill of the chase; everything was forgotten in remembrance of what would transpire if Ghost was caught. That empty room had meant certain death somehow. Their limited foresight told it. Ghost couldn’t die, they hadn’t seen the world yet!

That was all they could think as Ghost desperately squeezed the elder vessel’s hand to turn tail and run, leaving a disappointed Elderbug behind. All stealth was thrown out the window as the two pushed, shoved, and fought down the road. The crowd that once served as cover was now a hindrance. The lights hurt to look at. The conversations and music were too loud, the ground felt too grazing on their bare feet, and the air was sickly and still.

And judging by the  _ extremely _ angered shouts behind them, both knew that they had given away their location to the guards. Running faster, the world blurred and voices merged as all either of them could think of was the next step. One foot in front of the other.

Sooner than expected, they reached the bug-made cliff, the way out, the gates to freedom. The only problem was that it was a  _ cliff. _ In their haste, the two vessels had passed the stairway without a second thought. With no way to get up, they were at a dead end.

Ghost had an answer to this dilemma but their sibling apparently had a better idea. Protectively, they shifted in front of Ghost, nail drawn and center, determined to fight until the end. Where the end was, Ghost wasn’t entirely sure.

Despite the gravity of the situation, they almost giggled. That wasn’t the solution, they knew, but they admired their sibling’s chivalry. They grabbed the other vessel’s cloak to get their attention as Ghost promptly showed them the mantis claw kindly gifted long ago. And despite their shells being unable to make emotions, the sibling perfectly conveyed their exasperation as they tilted their head accusingly at them. Ghost’s sibling seemed to narrow their eyes at them as if asking,  _ “Where did you get this?” _ and frankly, Ghost couldn’t remember. They simply shrugged.

Without warning, the knight grabbed Ghost’s mantis claw and demanded Ghost hop on.

_ Will do! _

The vessel gracelessly scrambled up the wall by stabbing the claw deep into it and furiously beating their wings. Nothing was more obvious to Ghost that this was their first ascent. Luckily, Ghost could tutor them when they escaped. To be a little useful.

The vessel dragged themselves onto the flat ground beyond, and not without a number of new scrapes; Ghost winced. Didn’t they know  _ not _ to glide their chest across abrasive surfaces? Yes, the elder definitely had some practice ahead of them.

Ghost took the lead while they recovered -  _ I need a name for them, _ they realized - and walked through the open doors of King’s Pass, the other shortly behind.

King’s Pass, the road to freedom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you ever kidnap your sibling sometimes? lmao can't be me but it can be ghost ig  
> so i thought this would be a good chapter for angst? it ain't, ha imagine thinking you're good at angst ;) actually rest in peace  
> also yes, hegemol has let ghost steal cookies out of the cookie jar. whatever makes them happy, he said. both PV/HK and hegemol have and will let ghost get away with their antics only because it makes them happy. everyone here are at least acquaintances and i already have interludes planned for when a chapter doesn't come easy so they have reASONS. they're all friend. except for zote. >:(  
> giant ball of flame go brrr,,, fhodadghoa so hallownest has so many clouds up above they've never seen the sun. they're all vitamin d deficient  
> sO it was perhaps a mistake to say each would take me only a week? i might fall behind a little bit because the most time i have is during the weekend and sometimes it might take me a while to start up the next but i'll try my best ahfahgnbjkabfn


	4. A Long Road Ahead

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so i know what pacing is now hA  
> last chapters were misery but the story is gonna pick up because this is from this point on it's pretty experimental  
> many headcanon, we dance

King’s Pass was just as Ghost remembered.

The path itself was just as bland and boring as it had always been. The stalactites were dull, blunted; the well-trodden road was firm but smooth beneath their feet.

Although the Pass was simply bland, the migrants were certainly _not._

Upon entering, Ghost was dazzled by dozens of hues of shells, cloaks, wagons, and wildlife the immigrants brought for the Night of Dreams festival. Their sheens immediately drew Ghost’s gaze away from the unpromising walls to stare at the colors that so contrasted Hallownest’s.

Taking no such pleasures, Ghost’s companion briskly walked past to take initiative as the elder sibling. That was fair, because they were sure that if they weren’t prodded, they’d have never moved. _That’s right, we need to leave,_ Ghost thought as the events of that night revitalized themselves. The room, the infection, Hegemol acting angry for no reason, the Night of Dreams… they were tired of it. They had been dealing with the kingdom’s nonsense since birth, and honestly, they wanted no part of it anymore.

Which was why Ghost was leaving. And they were going to drag their sibling out of this hell-hole whether they liked it or not.

With that motive firmly instilled into their mind, they rushed forward to overtake their sibling. _I’ll lead!_ Ghost projected, knowing full well that no one could hear them.

The two waded through the large, disappointed gathering of bugs leaving Hallownest.

“How are we supposed to get down if we don’t know where the bridge is?”

“There _is_ no bridge, Noel.”

“Ugh, let’s just go to Clandestine. See, I _told_ you this was a bad idea!”

The siblings had no idea what they were talking about, but Ghost decided to stick around, if only to stare at their glittering lights a bit longer. The bugs seemed a little put off after realizing the lesser vessel was staring directly at them, but it wasn’t as if Ghost could help it. It wasn’t their fault the bugs’ lights were so captivating. If they had a problem, they should have just said so.

Ghost’s musings were interrupted by their ever-polite sibling tapping their shoulder. Right.

Goodness, why were they so distracted all of a sudden? They were never like this normally. Maybe the stress was just finally getting to them, or perhaps they were just excited to leave.

The way out was simple enough, with the biggest obstacle being the travelers hurriedly coming and leaving, grumbling their grievances. They should have known there was never a bridge.

Shoving through the crowd of taller migrants apparently limited the vessels’ eyesight though, for only at the end of the tunnel did they notice that the only way out, up the wide stairway that ascended to the Howling Cliffs, was seething with guards. They had undoubtedly seen the siblings’ wanted posters because they were interrogating others, paper in hand. Ghost’s sibling stilled in shock, but Ghost was used to being a rebel. Sneakily, they tugged the other’s hand and disappeared into the crowd before the guards could notice.

 _Looks like the bridge isn’t an option,_ Ghost contemplated as they decided their next move. Their sibling was fidgeting and pacing anxiously when Ghost came to a conclusion.

With a hop, Ghost led their sibling down, no doubt spiralling the elder into confusion. Ghost could almost hear their thoughts: _Why are we going down? Isn’t the only way out above us? What if we’re seen? Oh, I’m sure they’ve already noticed and the guards are on their way…_

If it wasn’t practically giving the other a panic attack, Ghost would have been amused. Instead, they settled with a reassuring pat.

Little did the sibling know, Ghost had _many_ friends.

The _chink chink_ of a pickaxe rang throughout the desolate room obscured in the King’s Pass’ depths, with each swing growing louder every step. Ghost was almost skipping by the time they reached the miner humming the world away, the shining lumafly on her cap illuminating the rocks she toiled away at.

Myla noticed their approach, despite her singing masking the sound of their footsteps. She turned. Ghost’s sibling stayed behind in the shadows and Ghost ran to her.

“O-Oh, hello again Ghost!” Myla stammered, surprised.

At that, Ghost remembered just how _long_ it took to communicate to Myla their name; Myla could do nothing but guess for hours on end. How much easier would it have been if the vessels could read and write, or even speak? How could the Pale King have lived with knowing he denied his own children the right to speech?

_Pay attention. Think of the bottles. Jars on a shelf._

Before Ghost could calm down, Myla continued with a giggle.

“Are they okay w-with you leaving this time?” to which Ghost gave a shrug. Communicating in any way other than a nod or a headshake just wasn’t worth the effort.

“Ah, okay.” Myla said, “W-well, I thought of a new song yesterday. Maybe I could sing and you could dance again!”

Whenever Ghost would escape one of their jobs, they would seek comfort with a friend. Occasionally, that friend was Myla; she would sing in her melodic voice while Ghost would dance chaotically like Grimm. Well, Grimm tried to show them to be elegant, but he settled to just teach them freestyle dancing after Ghost jumped and accidentally knocked over a stray candle. That tent burned down. Best lesson ever.

Unfortunately though, they didn’t have time to dance. Ghost was sure that the travelers had noticed them and the guards would promptly filter into King’s Pass, so they needed to escape quickly. Ghost apologetically shook their head. They rushed to the shadows lurking in the corner and dragged their hesitant sibling to Myla. Why the other was so shy, Ghost didn’t understand. It was just Myla!

Seeing the vessel, Myla sighed and turned to the hollowed wall. “I-I see, you want out,” she said sadly as she picked up her pickaxe laid against a rock.

She sniffled as she began to clear a path for them through the stone, “It’ll be sad to see you go, but it’s for the best. There are m-many cool places out there, like… like Clandestine… a-and Pharloom…” she trailed off.

In hindsight, Ghost should have delivered the message more carefully. They hadn’t wanted to upset Myla, but their time limit gave them no choice. Ghost still felt bad about it, though. She completely ignored their presence, which hurt more than they planned to admit.

Their sibling’s hand was shaking in Ghost’s as they waited for Myla. Ghost didn’t have much experience comforting bugs, so they awkwardly gave the vessel a half-hug and sat down, hoping they’d do so too. They carefully sat with a huff on the smooth floor next to Ghost.

The two waited in silence listening to Myla’s loud, wavered singing - was she wailing? - for a good while, a solid half hour. They were surprised the guards hadn’t delved this far into the Pass yet. Maybe they were delayed because the migrants who noticed them had already left. Whatever the reason, Myla mined in peace.

Eventually, a dull light other than Myla’s filled the room, with a gust of strong wind. She was flung back by the gale in an attempt to address the vessels. When she stood in front of the wide-eyed children she said, “I-I’ve cleared out a… a tunnel f-for you to… leave,” her voice cracked but she continued, “you’d b-be better out there, Ghost. There’s opportunity that… that way.” She gestured vaguely toward the light.

Myla stepped back and avoided eye contact, clearly wanting to be left alone. Ghost couldn’t accept that. In farewell, they gave her a parting embrace.

Much to their surprise, though, Myla returned the hug and started crying. Why was she crying? And _Wyrm,_ did she deliver bear hugs or what? Ghost literally felt the life being squeezed out of them, but they didn’t care. 

_Any hug is a good hug,_ they thought, but soon they found tears strolling down their cheeks. Tears were bad. Tears were why they couldn’t be sad. Ghost pulled back as they stowed their guilt away, and their voided tears splattered and sizzled on the ground. The void always burned when released from their carapace.

They couldn’t cry.

They wouldn’t.

“G-Ghost?”

Myla stared down with wide, concerned eyes at the growing puddle of black on the ground and backed away. This wasn’t how they wanted their farewell to go. Their tears were only fueled by the unease rolling off her in waves. They had to think about something else. They were scaring Myla. Stop. _Stop!_

While Ghost desperately tried to clear their thoughts, the vessel they forgot was there held Ghost’s hand and marched to the exit, pulling Ghost with them and leaving Myla behind. _Wait! I still need to explain!_ they internally screamed, but if the sibling could hear them, they gave no sign.

The turbulent gusts of wind grittily welcomed Ghost and their sibling. It felt wild, painful and unpredictable, even to their voided shells. How did anyone even survive out here? Ghost blinked out the sand in their eyes to look upon the desolate landscape that greeted them.

Corpses. Corpses everywhere, so numerous that Ghost felt queasy. Their sibling didn’t flinch. The disaster in front of them seemed just an endless field of weapons and long-dead bugs and sand and wind and misery.

Ghost would have turned around right then and there if they didn’t know what laid beyond the Wastes.

Ghost had had so many jobs that they couldn’t count; some were miserable and some were okay. Usually, a job was the latter when Hornet was around, the one who named them. Actually, she named all the vessels that were there in the Basin’s Tram Station; though she eventually forgot their names, the vessels never did. Hornet had actually shown them something other than orders or anger: love. Family was familiar to them, but not love.

When Deepnest was being corrupted by the blight, before the Weavers evacuated Hallownest, Hornet took every opportunity to tell her siblings where they were going: Pharloom. Eventually, rumor spread of the bright, vibrant kingdom with rolling hills and friendly natives and something called _the Sun;_ everything else dulled, though, when they learned they’d be free. _Actually_ free! They wouldn’t be miners, not slaves, and not servants, they’d be like everyone else. Which seemed too good to be true for most, but Ghost wasn’t so pessimistic. Ghost dreamed - dangerous, but they couldn’t resist - of kingdoms outside of Hallownest once again, after years of their yearning being crushed until broken. At last, they’d know what was beyond the Wastes.

As Ghost took a step forward against the howling wind, they looked back. Their sibling didn’t move. Were… Were they not coming? They had to! But the other turned back.

 _No!_ Ghost yelled as they rushed after them to grab their arm tightly. Their sibling’s form seemed to curl up, their gaze flicking uncertainly between Hallownest, the known, and the land beyond, the unfamiliar. Ghost knew they had responsibilities; they were important for a reason, but Ghost was _sure_ that whatever the nobility was doing wouldn’t work. Whatever their purpose, it wouldn’t help in the end. The world would move on.

Best to live life to the fullest, right?

Ghost pulled on their sibling’s arm, growing impatient. The other resisted again but stilled when they made eye contact. Ghost’s void-stained mask met their sibling’s emotionless one constrained by apathy, but Ghost knew their sibling. _They shouldn’t be suppressing their emotions like that,_ Ghost knew. The vessel’s posture slackened, with Ghost still tensed and blocking most of their sibling’s body from the biting wind with their own.

The vessel seemed to notice and marched to the front as a shield, meticulously clambering over corpses and dragging Ghost along. Ghost had to physically cover their mouth to keep from puking. What would they even puke, though? _Void?_

For the first hour or so, the vessels’ route consisted of progressing about fifty feet before being blown back twenty and emerging with newfound scrapes and cuts. Though they made quite a distance in their hurry to escape Hallownest, the wounds eventually built up and the soreness resonated in their joints. They stumbled and crawled under corpses before the gusts picked up again and looked for a path. _Surely_ bugs had a better way to travel the Wastes other than tripping over their own feet. But if there was a road, they didn’t find any.

Ghost was the only one who had a direction in mind. They had heard the migrants over the years speak of the grand “Clandestine Summit” and of the hushed rumors of the underground slave tunnels. The safe houses dotting the landscape would land them right at the Wastes’ border, near Pharloom. It was their best bet.

Certain they had traveled all day even without knowing the concept of time, Ghost and their sibling promptly found a heavy husk to take shelter in and literally collapsed on each other. They were so tired and sore that Ghost forgot to be disgusted that they were sleeping in another bug’s guts. Granted, the guts were long gone, but it was the principle of the thing. At least it protected them from the wind.

They settled on opposite sides of the husk. The other vessel remained stoutly focused to avoid sleep. Ghost had known their sibling for a long, long time, but they didn’t seem to remember Ghost in return. That was disappointing. Whatever their sibling had been through, though, it had spit them out suppressive and unfeeling. But they were _hurting,_ and Ghost longed to comfort them. Maybe one day they would remember Ghost.

 _One day,_ Ghost hoped as they drifted off to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm so excited for the next chapter, finally i get to write from the perspective of someone who speaks hhhhhhhhhhh  
> and now i need to look up dialogue becaaaause oh how to write,,,  
> and yes pale king is still having a panic attack. as he SHOULD. that little man, watch over your kid!


End file.
